


Don't Wear Gloves, Your Heart Will Thank You

by Commodore_Enigma



Series: The SWAT Captain and the Detective He Loved [5]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Married Couple, POV Change, Pre-Relationship, time skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25158100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Commodore_Enigma/pseuds/Commodore_Enigma
Summary: It’s a cold winter night when Gavin sees another side of Allen; one more warm and caring than his friend’s usual gruff exterior gives away. Feelings he’s not ready to face, let alone acknowledge, begin to stir awake.Over their years together, affectionate gestures remain, strengthening and deepening in tandem with their relationship.
Relationships: Captain Allen/Gavin Reed
Series: The SWAT Captain and the Detective He Loved [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534358
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Credit goes to my mom for beta-reading, helping with the summary, and brainstorming the title.

The chill in the air had numbed Gavin’s face to the point he wasn’t sure how much or how little expression it held. Despite how strange it felt to move his lips, he continued his conversation with Kent. “I remember playing that at my uncle’s. That shit got so intense, one of my cousins almost broke the TV when she lost a tennis match.”

From next to him, he heard a quiet huff of amusement. Lately, the sound had started to feel like an achievement. “My sister snubbed me during a Thanksgiving gathering because of it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We were bored the night before we went on a road trip to Indiana and knew we’d have no video games for a few days, so we marathon-played MarioKart and kept a tally going. By the last race it was a draw, and we decided to settle it with Rainbow Road.”

Gavin let out a short laugh, remembering the long-buried anguish of racing his relatives on it and losing sorely. “Naturally.”

“ Yeah. She was in the lead, I was close behind, and in the last lap I got a red shell and used it. She fell behind and wound up getting pushed off the road by another character. I finished in first place, she was eleventh and _pissed_ , screeching bloody murder through the whole end of the race. Afterwards, she demanded a re-match. I didn’t want one since I’d won fair and square, and our ensuing argument was so loud our mom came out of her room and took the remotes from us. That was one silent road trip the next day, and it made Thanksgiving dinner even more awkward at times. We didn’t acknowledge each other’s existence in conversations and our relatives were so bewildered. As an angsty teen, I thought that was hilarious.”

Gavin grinned at that, or at least tried to. “I never knew you were so petty, old man.”

In mock defense, he replied, “hey, Jocelyn started it. Besides, everyone knows the stress that game can put on relationships.”

“I guess so,” Gavin replied, his focus turning elsewhere. He tried to clench his fists and found his fingers difficult to move. His apartment was drawing nearer, but it was still a bit of a walk, and he began to wring his hands. Even in his attempt to warm himself up, the cold from the evening continued pressing in on him.

“You don’t have siblings, do you?” Kent guessed.

“You got me.”

That earned another huff of amusement. Gavin’s heart stirred at the sound, and he shifted his attention elsewhere. He glanced over the light of the dying sun reflecting on the windows across the street, and even paid more attention to the chill that grasped at him. Anything that wasn’t that strange, long-buried feeling and its feeble fight for recognition.

The wind nudged at the duo as they retraced their steps back to Gavin’s place, and a silence settled over them. It didn’t concern Gavin; it seemed a good half of their time spent together was wordless companionship. Drinking coffee, aimless walks by their places, working out. In a way it was for the better, less chances to fuck up a conversation and drive his friend away in a repeat of past habits. On that winter night, it was the perfect opportunity to ignore strange feelings, ones that went beyond feeling like his face had turned into an icicle.

From the corner of his vision, he saw Kent look at him. Before Gavin could think much about it, he continued staring forward, intent on their route.

Gavin wondered if Kent wanted to speak again. Though Kent walked with his typical, confident stride, stiffened a bit by the intensifying chill, it seemed like a possibility. Why else would he be looking over at him? Once Gavin was defrosted, he’d complain about the events of his day, how incompetent his colleagues could be with filling out paperwork. A typical conversation piece for the both of them.

He let his hands fall back to his sides, his efforts to warm them futile.

The little cafe on the street corner caught Gavin’s attention with its stock photo-quality decal and familiar red door. He grew reassured they’d be indoors soon, out of the invasive cold of another winter night. Gavin hadn’t expected it to be so damn windy that day or for the temperature to drop so much, but it proved a harsh reminder of what season they were still in.

It was strange when Kent glanced over again, looking Gavin up and down before turning his attention away. Since when was that a habit? Kent preferred vigilance, always casting his sharp gaze over their public surroundings with the same attentiveness, whether it was the firing range or a mellow little coffee shop.

He wrote it off as a coincidence, though he didn’t know what of, and ignored his own growing interest. Instead, he mentally recalled how he’d complained over Garcia’s shoulder earlier that day, jabbing his finger at the transparent screen and the glaring inaccuracies on the report before them. His jaw clenched in frustration.

Kent shot him another brief glance. And then, following what must’ve been a couple minutes, another. Gavin began to tense up.

It happened yet again, and Gavin’s irritation at being the target of such unusual attention displayed itself. 

“What?” He asked, impatient. Of all the people to befriend, Gavin had chosen one that’d proven himself a master of ambiguous expressions. At times it was fascinating, even impressive that Kent could keep such a steadfast appearance while maintaining an underlying intensity. Other times, like that evening, it became a point of frustration.

“You look cold,” Kent remarked, a neutral observation to match his neutral scrutinizing.

“Cause it is,” Gavin stated the obvious right back at him, looking him over in suspicion. Beneath the pale streetlights, Kent’s cheeks and nose were tinted a notable shade of pink.

“You don’t have gloves on.”

“I’m off-duty. I don’t need them.” Gavin plunged his numbed hands into his already-filled pockets.

Kent’s dry amusement lightened his question. “You sure about that?”

Gavin squared his shoulders, trying to nestle his fingers into the soft and warm lining to no avail. “Course I’m sure.” His teeth clenched at the dull ache in his joints.

Kent didn’t press further. A silence returned between them; the passing of cars, pedestrians, and occasional piercing wind gusts became white noise. Gavin figured their little exchange was over.

Handling his own key fob was a struggle with chilled fingers. It was an inconvenience more than a true threat, but Gavin still disliked how he fumbled at unlocking his front door, almost dropping the keys before an audience of one.

They both settled in; Gavin stepped out of his shoes, grateful he didn’t have to deal with untying them, and flopped onto his couch with a tired sigh. His body sank into the worn upholstery, and he flexed his hands, fighting through the sluggishness in an attempt to warm them back up.

Kent settled next to him on the couch, looking him over with that same damned expression.

Gavin made a face at him in question and turned his focus to his TV, wondering if he should put something on.

“Let me see your hands.” 

Gavin froze, his thoughts halting as he processed the quiet request. He contemplated asking Kent what the Hell he wanted to do. 

Instead, Gavin turned and looked at him. He brought his hands between them, slow and cautious.

Kent took them in his own, free of the black gloves he’d worn during their walk. Cradling Gavin’s hands, Kent inspected his fingers. They were a shade of agitated pink as they trembled from temperature change and uncertainty alike.

“Christ, they’re cold,” Kent cursed, his prominent eyebrows furrowed in concern. He enveloped Gavin’s fingers and began to rub at them. The motion was so gentle, Gavin hardly noticed how his fingers began to sting.

He fought down the heat traveling to his face at being touched in such a way, and he couldn’t bring himself to look Kent in the eye.

Kent remained focused on Gavin’s hands, coaxing feeling back into them with a cautious touch. “You idiot,” he murmured the insult with clear fondness. “Not wearing gloves. Are you trying to get frostbite?”

It took a second to process his words, distracted by how warm Kent’s hands were as they massaged his fingers. “Of course not,” he defended, no bite to his words. The stinging began to subside, and Gavin remained mesmerized by the very-real sight of Kent’s hands on his own.

The more feeling that returned, the more Gavin noticed the occasional roughness of calluses on the pads of Kent’s fingers, how gentle his touch remained. How his thumbs caressed Gavin’s finger pads in a gradual motion, as though he were committing the feel of Gavin’s skin to memory. The mere thought of that idea felt ridiculous, but even if Gavin had wanted to, he couldn’t shift his gaze away.

A warmth settled over Gavin, one that didn’t come from his more comfortable surroundings. It spread from something else, a little spark of heat in his chest. A feeling he wanted, beyond anything else, to ignore. Kent was a friend fretting over him in a way he’d never expected to encounter, that was all there was to their little interaction.

Talking himself out of what he felt did nothing to cool the growing heat in his face.

Kent stopped, but didn’t let go. “Warmed up now?”

Gavin nodded, and he spared a glance up at him. Kent’s eyes locked with his, soft and observant, and Gavin swore a blush still dusted his face. Those green eyes watched him in such a tender way he hadn’t witnessed before, and to his aggravation his heart sped up at that. How was _he_ the subject of that kind of attention? And why wasn’t he so angry over that?

He asked questions he didn’t want to know the answer to.

In a moment, Kent’s expression turned neutral once more, and he let go of Gavin’s hands. “Good,” he remarked with a curt nod, moving out of Gavin’s reach.

His hands hovered for a moment where Kent left them. Kent lounged back on the opposite side of the couch, and Gavin let his hands fall onto his lap. Before he could think too hard about what just happened, Gavin occupied himself with the familiar routine of brewing coffee.

“The usual?” Gavin asked, as unwavered as he could sound. He already knew the answer; Kent didn’t surprise him with his beverage preferences anymore.

“Yes, please.”

The return of predictability soothed a part of Gavin, and he decided whatever just happened must’ve been an exception.

Even as Gavin went through the well-recited process of preparing coffee, his hands working at the machine through muscle memory, they felt strange without Kent’s hands surrounding them. Barren. Gavin wanted that to be a side effect of dethawing hands, but he knew it wasn’t so simple.

It was a naive part of him, a tiny voice he longed to silence, that hoped he’d feel Kent’s hands on his own again.


	2. Chapter 2

The corridor rushed by him, fluorescent lights glaring down. He passed by room after room, dodging the occasional person or piece of furniture. The blurred together fragments of conversation and hums and whirs of machines became an unnerving combination. Kent was no stranger to hospitals and their sterile dreariness; but that night, his surroundings didn’t feel real.

A day of physical training, planning a bust for an illicit arms dealer, and an abrupt call to a barricaded suspect’s home had left its mark on Kent’s body and mind, but the fatigue and soreness he’d felt before had subsided.

Kent’s heart pounded against his ribcage; had been during the whole journey to the hospital. Just like before the standoff, when he received the call that his husband was being rushed to the hospital in the midst of convening with his men. The duties of a SWAT captain had held him in place despite the news, and in a trial of emotional stress he hadn’t experienced in some time, Kent focused on the issue at hand and feigned composure.

Speaking to his men and fighting to appear level-headed despite his frayed nerves slowed time down far too much. The standoff wasn’t a long one, in a stroke of luck it lasted only a couple hours once they pressed in around the suspect’s home. To him, it’d been an eternity. As soon as the suspect was detained and the scene cleared out he’d made a beeline to his SUV, securing his outermost layer of gear in the trunk, where it’d rest until the next inevitable call. Without another thought, he raced to the hospital.

Now, he borderline-jogged through the building, to where Gavin was according to the front desk. His combat boots struck in rapid succession against the linoleum.

The door labeled “Reed” greeted him sooner than expected, and he screeched to a halt in front of it. With no further consideration, he barged through the door, desperate to see Gavin for himself.

In the middle of the small room lay his husband, still unconscious. Kent rushed over to him, his hands bracing against the handles of the bed. With the pale gown covering much of Gavin’s body, he couldn’t see the extent of what’d happened to him, though plenty could be seen on his head alone. Newly forming bruises marred his nose and the right side of his head, where a gauze covered a new wound. A short laceration crossed his left jaw, the line arising again over his cheekbone and up into his brow as a harsh mark adorned with stitches. Undoubtedly the handiwork of a knife.

A fire coursed through his veins at the thought of the bastard that’d landed him here. How much he’d like to hunt them down, rip them apart himself-

Gavin’s head shifted a bit, though his eyes remained closed, and Kent’s focus turned back to him. What’d happened was over with, and it was outside of his hands to deal with the assailant. Rage cooled into sorrow, and he stooped over, brushing back Gavin’s hair where it’d fallen loose, dirtied and disheveled by the altercation he’d found himself in. Mindful of the wounds, he let his fingertips trail down the side of Gavin’s face, over the familiar and pleasant scratching of his stubble.

As he touched Gavin, Kent’s fingers quaked. Next to him, the heart monitor was steady, and if he watched it close enough Gavin’s chest rose and fell evenly. Still, his stomach churned with uncertainty, and he longed for Gavin’s eyes to meet his again. That morning already seemed so long ago, when he’d pressed a kiss to Gavin’s forehead, delighting in the affectionate hum it’d earned him as Gavin sleepily nuzzled his neck in response. 

A lump formed in Kent’s throat as he worried over the worst outcome. The front desk’s reassurances that Gavin was stable didn’t feel like a truth. It wouldn’t be until he saw Gavin awake for himself, heard him gently tease Kent or, in a similar vein to himself, attempt to brush off the whole ordeal that’d landed him here in the first place.

His long-instilled pride for his career faded away, and Kent cursed his responsibilities, how he couldn’t have dropped everything to race to the hospital and be with Gavin.

Kent’s hand cupped Gavin’s face, his thumb scraping along his jaw, avoiding his wounds. Despite his best efforts to fight it off, the lump in his throat persisted, and his thoughts blended together in an uncontrollable downward spiral.

_I shouldn’t fucking cry. I’m better than this._

_I should’ve been there with him._

_I can’t lose him. Not like this._

He tried to speak to Gavin aloud, in the hope he’d hear his words, but the moment his mouth opened a frail croak was all that escaped. Kent stayed quiet.

 _Don’t leave me, Gav._ Please _._

_I love you. I love you so much._

_I’m so sorry I couldn’t get here sooner-_

Gavin’s eyelids fluttered, and Kent’s thoughts stalled. He saw the same murky gray eyes he’d fallen into so many times before. When they met his own, they didn’t look away.

Kent brushed the back of his fingers along the uninjured side of Gavin’s face as his husband gazed up, bewildered.

“You’re here,” Gavin murmured in awe. Kent couldn’t stop the tears that began blurring the edges of his vision, relief overwhelming him.

He nodded, afraid to speak aloud. To the rest of the world, he had an appearance to keep up, one that didn’t allow for addressing such sensitive feelings. Gavin was an exception, and his husband had been with him long enough to have seen him cry a couple times before. Still, that’d never stopped his embarrassment at showing vulnerability.

Instead, Kent leaned down and pressed his lips to Gavin’s forehead, where Gavin couldn’t see the tears that’d begun to fall. One rolled down off the tip of his nose and fell into Gavin’s hair. He didn’t voice any disapproval, and Kent let the kiss linger as long as he could, before the gesture and effort of holding back tears became too much. His desperate lungs forced him to take a shaky breath, and he hoped it’d slip past Gavin’s attention, too. That the pain medicine he was on would mask his typical careful attention.

To his fear-shrouded adoration, Gavin noticed. “You alright?” His voice was slurred, but full of concern.

“Fine,” was all Kent could croak out. He let go of Gavin and collapsed into the chair in a split second, turning away from Gavin to swipe at his eyes and nose with the sleeve of his uniform.

“Kent…”

Kent didn’t look at him. Beyond anything he wanted to, but in that moment he was a pathetic sight. He didn’t want to hide, but he didn’t want Gavin, or _anyone_ , to see him like that.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” The pet name rolled off Gavin’s tongue with ease, and hearing it sent a spark of affection through Kent’s chest.

Still, he couldn’t look at him. Feeling Gavin’s affection again reminded him of how he wasn’t there sooner, how he didn’t drive straight to the hospital to be with him. In a scratchy voice he loathed, he blurted out, “I’m sorry.”

Abrupt silence settled between them save for Kent’s ragged breaths, and when it lasted long enough Kent looked up at Gavin, clenching his hands into fists on his lap, his fingernails digging into his palms unpleasantly.

Through the clear haze of exhaustion in Gavin’s expression, he looked at Kent with a frown. “What for?”

“I’m…” Kent swallowed. “I’m a terrible husband. I couldn’t even get here when I heard the news.”

“You’re not terrible. You’re anything but.”

It was a breath he didn’t have, but Kent explained in a tumble of words, “I couldn’t even answer my phone when they told me, it went to fucking _voicemail_. Afterwards I kept working and got here after you went into surgery, I shouldn’t have stayed so-”

“Don’t worry about that. You had a busy day,” Gavin reassured. “Besides, it’s not like I planned on getting stabbed today,” he barked a humorless laugh at his own sarcasm, wincing at the action. “Neither of us could’ve prepared for that.”

Kent nodded, murmuring a “guess so” that sounded as defeated as he felt. He still loathed arriving so late, and the crippling fear that’d weighed over him upon hearing the dreaded words from a stranger. They both led risky lives, of course it’d happen at some point or the other. But that didn’t make it any easier when the time came, especially when the one more at risk of being injured went unscathed.

Gavin watched him with a softened frown of concern, before his attention turned to Kent’s lap. “Your hands. Can I see them?”

Kent complied, bringing his hands up to Gavin’s side. Though he wished it wasn’t the case, they still shook in distress.

With Gavin’s medicated state it was a slow process, but he took both of Kent’s hands in his own, settling both of them at his side.

Gavin swaddled Kent’s fingers in his own, chilled for a reason different from the cold, and began massaging at them.

“You look cold,” Gavin explained his excuse. It went beyond that; Kent knew Gavin was just as aware of that.

It didn’t need to be said, and instead Kent let himself focus on how warm Gavin’s hands were, how he kneaded at Kent’s fingers with a clear tenderness despite his weak grip. Though he wanted to hold Gavin’s frail hands and protect them, since it was the least he could do, he let his hold relax. Though it’d never been Gavin’s gesture and he was learning after waking up in a hospital of all places, he seemed comfortable with warming Kent’s hands. Practiced, even; perhaps that was a byproduct of his tendency for massaging Kent’s back and shoulders on rougher days. Whatever the way it manifested, Kent found it calming, and he hoped Gavin would make a habit of it once the day was a fading memory and the wounds had turned to nothing more than scars.

Kent’s breath began to steady, and with it the trembling ceased from his fingers. At last, he felt confident to speak again.

“How’re you feeling?” Kent’s voice was scratchy, but with the lump in his throat gone it was no longer uncomfortable to talk.

Gavin shrugged, a little lift of one shoulder. “Tired.”

“What happened?”

He didn’t speak at first, but before the silence drew out too long Gavin let out a sigh. “Y’know how I mentioned that slew of break-ins hitting a dead end?”

Kent nodded.

“I investigated one of the stores again today, and when I got to the scene someone was snooping around. He gave chase when I confronted him, I got him into a corner. Couldn’t even grill him before someone ran up and a knife tore into my side. Bastards ran for it when they were done with me, and Rogers had an unpleasant surprise when he caught up.”

Kent’s hands began balling into fists. “Those fuckers,” he spat, and a new surge of anger washed over him.

Gavin’s fingers intertwined with his, coaxing them out of their tense state. It paused the new onslaught of anger at his husband’s assailants, and Kent let his hands relax again.

“I’ll be fine,” Gavin soothed, slowly straightening out Kent’s fingers with his thumbs, stroking over the calloused pads.

“I know you will,” Kent whispered. 

Gavin’s fingers laced together with his own, and he squeezed Gavin’s hands. Gavin did the same in response. Looking at their linked hands on the stiff mattress, he scoffed gently and remarked, “can’t believe I’m not the one doing the comforting.”

He thought he’d said it flat enough, that his typical neutral tone would become an advantage again, but Gavin knew him too well. “I shouldn’t have made you worry.”

“For God’s sake, Gavin, you were _stabbed_. Of course I’m going to worry, I should’ve rushed here the moment I learned you were-” tears didn’t threaten to fall that time, but Kent’s voice cracked. To avoid further embarrassment, he let the words die in his throat.

“Don’t fret over that,” Gavin lectured. He let go of Kent’s hand, and though the motion was slow he brought his hand to Kent’s face, settling his unsteady touch against Kent’s jaw. His thumb caressed down Kent’s cheek as he added, “just think of it as payback. Though it isn’t even. How many times have you dealt with me and my shitton of issues, after all?”

“Many times,” Kent reflected. Enough that the times he’d spent trying to console his hyperventilating or dead-silent husband blended together. He brought his free hand up to Gavin’s, covering it with his own, where he could linger in the warmth of Gavin’s hand on him and ease their pains, if only for a moment. “And I’ll never stop.”

Gavin’s eyes twinkled with fondness, but he left the subject of his own burdens, ever intent to leave them buried. “Besides, I’ve been sliced up before, and look at how that turned out for me.”

Legacies of wounds like his weren’t simple, but Kent’s lips twitched at the cockier side of his husband reappearing. He glanced over the ever-present scar crossing Gavin’s nose, from the night their paths had first crossed. “True.”

“No knife-wielding assholes’ going to do me in, promise.” He winked in that peculiar way, where both his eyes closed and his lips quirked into a lopsided grin, and Kent’s heart lightened at the sight of it. A grimace crossed Gavin’s face for a moment, having disturbed his stitches. Though it reminded Kent of the situation at hand, he remained reassured his husband was already bouncing back; even if he had quite the road to recovery.

Gavin’s hand lowered from his face, too weak to continue, and Kent caught it in his own, cradling it protectively. He brought Gavin’s hand to his lips, pressing kisses to his dry knuckles and the warm gold of his wedding ring.

“You look tired,” Gavin observed.

“Says the pot to the kettle,” Kent replied against his roughened skin, noting the darker shadows under Gavin’s eyes, how his eyelids threatened their weight.

Gavin pulled his hand away from Kent’s, using it to prop himself upright.

“What’re you-?” Kent leaned in, his hand grabbing Gavin’s arm.

Gavin continued sitting upright, favoring his right arm. “Relax, I got this.”

“Gav, darling. You’re hurt, don’t-”

“For Christ’s sake, _relax_.” Gavin inched himself away from Kent, a sluggish process that continued until he was at the farthest edge of the bed. “I’m not going anywhere.” He settled into his new place, patting the new, small space on the bed next to him. 

With feigned detachment, he suggested, “y’know, this bed could fit two people.”

“I don’t want to flare up your wounds.” Kent was still uncertain of what injuries lay beneath Gavin’s hospital gown. At the same time clinging to Gavin with no intention of letting go, even if it was in a hospital and not the preferred privacy of their home, was all he wanted.

“You won’t. They’re not on this side.”

Kent didn’t put up a fight. “Alright.” He settled onto the bed, mindful of filling the little space left on the mattress with his own body, letting his chest gradually press against Gavin’s side. “Nobody better yell at me for sharing a bed with a patient.”

“Oh, please,” Gavin dismissed with tired amusement. “We’re married. If they try to send my husband of all people away I’ll just raise Hell until they let you back in.”

Kent scoffed. “I’d like to see that.” He let his head rest next to Gavin’s, against the uncomfortable stiffness of the pillow.

“You don’t believe I’ll do it?” was Gavin’s half-assed challenge, resting his uninjured cheek against the pillow, his forehead touching Kent’s.

Kent pressed a kiss to his temple. “Course I believe you.” He put his arm over Gavin’s chest, enclosing him against the bed and himself. “Does this hurt?”

Gavin shook his head, letting his eyes close.

“Good,” Kent whispered, pressing his forehead back to Gavin’s, where he could feel Gavin’s breath on his lips, a gentle reminder they were both alive.

“Night,” Gavin whispered.

“Night, Gav.” Kent let his eyes fall shut, too, settling in for a night in the hospital. It wasn’t the routine comfort of their bedroom, but he couldn’t imagine leaving Gavin alone. A cramped hospital bed was better than falling asleep at home without his husband by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
